By Scott Reddoch
I used to think purpose was some big thing. Something on a list. The top 40 achievers under 40.
I would compare where I was to “them.” I didn’t think what I was doing was fulfilling any purpose.
It was.
I got a nail in my tire and went to this place in Mid City on the edge of a neighborhood where I was working. I don’t remember the name exactly. Something like R&O Tire. It was a pretty grungy place, but they were fixing flats not selling filet mignon.
The guy that helped me was named Boris. He was a lanky guy from Bulgaria with greasy shoulder-length black hair. He wore a dark blue work uniform with a patch that had his name on it. He’d only been in the US for five years and spoke broken English.
At first we had the typical tire business conversation. He didn’t seem very interested in me or anything else.
Then I asked if he had any kids.
His face lit up. He pulled out pictures. School portraits. His daughter Sasha had just turned 16. His son Alex was 13. Then he showed me a family photo from Christmas. Them sitting in front of a tree wearing matching red sweaters. His wife Tori is very pretty. I wasn’t expecting such a normal-looking family.
Boris told me not many people speak to him and don’t ask about anything other than themselves.
When he lit up, it felt really nice that I was connecting with another human. I came in a complete stranger. I left as a friend.
This may sound silly, but I miss being able to make someone feel important. Since I’m non-verbal now, I don’t get many opportunities. I used to do this often. I’m not the sunshiny personality type, but I would try to make people feel special. Some are narcissists. Some haven’t felt special in a long time. It needs to be authentic or it backfires.
It’s a small thing. It’s not hard to do. It does require you to be conscious and in your moments. That takes time but the quality is worth it.
I wasn’t dancing through life showering everyone with praise. I focused on who I interact with. Not even all of them. Just the ones I clicked with.
Not being able to speak, I can still connect through email. But I can’t read a person through email. Facial expressions are a big part of communication. You don’t get it there.
People say I don’t complain. It’s not that I don’t get uncomfortable or want other things. I’ve just never seen the use for it. So that’s how I help now. I shut up and keep things to myself.
You see these lists all the time. “The top blank under blank.” They make me look at what I haven’t accomplished. People pay to get into those anyway. They’re just big highlight reels. I have to be careful with them. The comparisons I make can be hurtful.
I won’t develop a life-saving cure or make some earth-shattering discovery. Most don’t. It isn’t fair to compare yourself to those who do.
Boris didn’t need me to make the list. He just needed someone to ask about his kids.
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